


charisma, crushes and cleaning supplies

by kinos



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Requested!, This is so cliche I'm sorry, fluff?, wooseok shinwon & hongseok are there for a sec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 18:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinos/pseuds/kinos
Summary: The last thing Hwitaek had expected when he woke up this morning was to be locked in a storage room. The last person he had expected to be locked in a storage room with is Kim Hyojong.





	charisma, crushes and cleaning supplies

**Author's Note:**

> based on:
> 
> _hui is a very quiet kid in class and hyojong is the class clown who has a crush on him but hui thinks he's gonna bully him til hyojong asks him out after cornering him one day_
> 
>    
> this is for the anon who sent this in! i know it's almost a month late, that's why i felt like i should finally write it and i kinda just wrote it like . Just now so, sorry it's so short and not much and i think i kinda strayed from the prompt a bit...? but i hope you still like it!!! thanks for sending it in <3

The last thing Hwitaek had expected when he woke up this morning was to be locked in a storage room. The last person he had expected to be locked in a storage room _with_ is Kim Hyojong.

Yet, there he is, pressed up against the shelf, cleaning supplies poking into his back and the only reason he doesn’t move forward is because he’s one step away from being completely face-to-face, nose-to-nose, lips-to-lips with Hyojong, the latter standing opposite him with his own back to the door, and man, _have these storage rooms always been this small?_

Hwitaek really has no idea how he got here.

His day had started like any other; he’d woken up at exactly six thirty in the morning – six forty-five actually, after blindly tapping at his screen in hopes of hitting the snooze button, but who’s counting? – and he’d gotten ready for school, all ironed uniform and neat hair and laced shoes that he was starting to outgrow. Funny. He thought he’d already stopped growing. He definitely wasn’t getting any taller, that’s for sure.

Classes had gone on as usual; exercises written up on the whiteboard, scrawly handwriting in flimsy notebooks, Hwitaek doing his work on his own, head ducked low, mouth glued shut. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any friends, he just didn’t have any friends _there._ All his friends happened to be in years below him, none of them in the same classes as he is, which left him with no one to talk to, nothing to say.

He didn’t mind it much, because he’d always thought that his classmates were a little… _out of his league._ Not that they were better than him, or that he was better than them, just that he didn’t think he’d ever get along with any of them. They were loud and rough and far too playful for his liking. And on top of that, they were all taller than him. How unfair was that?

The only one who didn’t make him feel like a complete dwarf was that Hyojong guy that they all revolved around, like he was some kind of modern day cult leader, and he made up for his lack of height with the fact that was he was the loudest, roughest, most playful one of them all. He was funny, Hwitaek would admit that, but sometimes his jokes and his games came at the expense of other people’s feelings, so he tried his best to just stay clear of him and his gang of giants.

It worked, for the most part, Hwitaek minding his own business, them pretending he didn’t exist, except for that time the one called Wooseok – he was nice, Hwitaek would say, the nicest of the lot – asked if he could borrow a dollar because the vending machine ate his money and he didn’t have anymore small change to pay for the soda he wanted. He had paid Hwitaek back immediately the next day even though he’d told him he didn’t have to. See, like he said, nice.

And when Wooseok blocked his way as he was headed out for class for lunch time, Hwitaek had been stupid enough to ask, “Vending machine took your money again?”

The vending machine hadn’t taken his money, Hwitaek had quickly figured out once the others showed up at his side, Shinwon and Hongseok, if he wasn’t mistaken, the three of them towering over him with these evil grins on their faces. Then he’d felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to see Hyojong right behind him, and _of course._

He had thought that if he’d just kept to himself, he’d never end up being one of those poor kids who got caught in one of Hyojong’s silly schemes, his stupid pranks. But well, obviously, he thought wrong because it had taken about two seconds for them to grab him and shove him into the nearest storage closet, snickering to themselves as they did. And he wasn’t stupid, he had watched movies before, he knew that he’d probably be stuck in there for the rest of the day while they laughed at him. He knew that when they finally let him out, every student in the school would probably be out there laughing at him too, maybe even those who he called his friends, because Hyojong had this odd effect on people that made them like him whether they wanted to or not.

Charisma, Hwitaek thinks it’s called.

What he hadn’t saw coming though, was the fact that right after they’d put Hwitaek in there, they’d thrown Hyojong in too, the guy smacking against him before he tried to back out of the tiny room, only to slam into a locked door face first. That must’ve hurt.

And okay, maybe Hwitaek _does_ have an idea of how he’d gotten here, but he has no idea _why._

So he asks, “Is this supposed to be some kind of practical joke?”

“If it is, then the joke’s on both of us, don’t you think?” Hyojong shoots back with a little more heat than necessary, then- “ _Sorry._ I shouldn’t be getting mad at you.” He cups his hands around his mouth, turning to press them against the door, his voice raising. “I should be mad at _those fucking idiots out there_ who are gonna get a good beating once I break this stupid door down.”

They hear a round of laughter, then one of them – Shinwon? Hongseok? Definitely not Wooseok – says, “You’re welcome, Hyojong!”

Hyojong mutters something crude under his breath, something Hwitaek would rather not repeat, then he turns back to face him, a thin lipped smile pulled taut on his face.

“Sorry. Again. About… _this._ ” He waves a vague hand, breathing out heavy through his nose. “My friends seem to think it’s funny to lock me up in a store with the guy I like-” His hand drops to his side, smile slips off his face. “I- I mean, not that you’re the guy I like or- Not that I _don’t_ like you- But-” He winces, his entire face scrunching up, saying to himself, “Oh my god, Kim Hyojong, shut the fuck up.”

If Hwitaek didn’t know any better, he’d say Hyojong looks… _embarrassed,_ his cheeks blooming red, gaze darting nervously, and _have his hands been jittery this whole time?_ Maybe Hwitaek should hold them. Just to get them to stop shaking, of course.

He isn’t sure what to say, because he’s never actually spoken to Hyojong before, never expected their first conversation to be a confession of a crush, be it the truth or not. He isn’t sure what to do either, because in every scenario of him and Hyojong that’s played out in his head before – not that he thinks about him a lot or anything, definitely not – it’s him who’s the blushing mess, not Hyojong. Of course, in those instances, it’s because Hwitaek had been put through a humiliating, but hopefully not so emotionally scarring, prank of some sort at the hands of Hyojong and his friends, and he isn’t sure if this right here counts as that.

And it makes him think, _is this a prank?_ Is there a hidden camera in the nozzle of that cleaning spray that’s suspiciously pointing right at him? Is he going to be the laughing stock of the whole school? Is he going to have to pack his things up, move three countries over and change his name to something that doesn’t rhyme with Lee Hwitaek? Or does Hyojong really have nothing to do with his friends’ little plan to put them in here together?

_Does Hyojong really like him?_

Still, prank or no prank, slight romantic feelings or otherwise, Hwitaek should say something. It’s the least he can do if he’s not going to help hold Hyojong’s shaky hands, because that would be weird and invasive and oh boy, _is it getting hot in here?_

Then before he starts burning up in shame, he finds himself blurting out, “My friends would find it funny too.” Hyojong opens his eyes, looks right at him. Hwitaek coughs, points between them. “T-This, I mean. You and me, in here. Not that it’d be funny because _I_ like _you,_ but- Just- _Me._ Locked in here. With you. And the, uh-” He gives the mop beside him a weak kick. “-cleaning stuff. _Yeah._ Funny.”

Hyojong stares at him for a moment, silent, and _okay,_ maybe Hwitaek shouldn’t have said anything-

“Funny,” Hyojong echoes, then he laughs, coming out in these awkward chuckles like he shouldn’t be laughing, but he is anyway, and Hwitaek lets himself laugh too, not quite sure what they’re laughing about, but Hyojong has a nice laugh and it makes him want to laugh with him.

And as nice as it is to just stand there and laugh at nothing in particular, this entire thing is getting a bit ridiculous, and Hyojong’s laughter is quickly replaced with a sound that’s a mix between a whine and a groan, his hands coming up to press against his own cheeks, and he says, “This is _so_ not how I wanted our first conversation to go.”

“How _did_ you want it go?” Hwitaek can’t help but ask, his curiosity getting the best of him, wondering just how much Hyojong’s been thinking of him.

Hyojong blows out through his lips. “Well, for starters, we weren’t supposed to be surrounded by shelves of toilet paper, but-” His eyes flicker down, back up to Hwitaek, and _were they always standing this close?_ “This isn’t too bad, I suppose.”

It’s Hwitaek’s turn to flush red, his neck warm under his collar, and he tries not to stutter when he says, “Yeah, it’s not so bad.” And because he’s an idiot, because he’s not used to talking to anyone outside his little friend circle, because if he doesn’t keep his mouth busy, he might just do something stupid like grab Hyojong’s hands after all, he asks, “Do you really like me?”

A cheeky grin splits Hyojong’s face in two, and he answers, “Maybe.”

 _Well,_ that’s not very helpful.

Then, Hyojong steps closer, the two of them face-to-face, nose-to-nose, by some miracle – _or curse_ – still not lips-to-lips and Hwitaek has no idea why he wants them to be.

“When we get out of here, after school or something,” he starts, that grin of his widening even more. “Wanna have lunch together to talk it over?”

Hwitaek should say no, because he doesn’t want to get caught up in this, whatever _this_ is, because he doesn’t want to be another one of those people in his cult, because he doesn’t even like Hyojong. _Right?_ Right.

But he looks at Hyojong – really, he has nowhere else to look now, and okay, maybe he’s a little nice to look at, cute nose and all – and Hwitaek should say no, he really should, but instead, he hears himself say, “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

And _ah,_ charisma. That’s definitely it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are very much appreciated! ♡
> 
> find me on:  
> ➳ [twitter](https://t.co/53juFqJvjz)  
> ➳ [curious cat](https://t.co/igkkeEKzGK)  
> ➳ [listography](https://t.co/BKguVIn7Gc)


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